


Beginning

by myosotises



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Catradora Wedding, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, I do believe and hope, Love, Marriage, Post Season 5, Post-Canon, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myosotises/pseuds/myosotises
Summary: Catra surprises Adora with their weddingorMaybe Catra was right. That knowing the end of the story altered the middle, affected the journey. But the way Adora saw it, the beginnings were the most important part; they were what let stories evenhappen, they were the catalysts for change. They could be beautiful, when viewed that way, like they were always the start ofsomething. And if something was always happening, then couldn’t any moment be a beginning?- based off Reinaeiry's song "After The War"
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Netossa/Spinnerella (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 114





	Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I heard "After The War" by Reinaeiry I wanted to write a fic, so here we are I guess three months later. (If you haven't heard this work of art yet, I definitely recommend [it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGqqSbmpXQU).)

“Adora!” Glimmer appears in the middle of her room, the flurry of sparkles surrounding her entrance already dissipating as Adora whirls around. Her best friend doesn’t seem to pay her any mind though, looking around even as she calls her name.

“Uh, yes?” she ventures, confused and slightly worried.

“Where’s Bow? I thought he’d be here by now,” Glimmer says distractedly, before facing her. “Also give me your sword, please.”

“Can I ask why—?” The door behind Adora swings open and she turns, expecting a familiar mane of hair to stroll in only to find her maid of honour. “Oh, hey Bow.”

“Hi, Adora—”

“Well don’t sound so disappointed,” Glimmer jokes, moving closer to Bow, their matching earrings shimmering in the light as she leans up. Adora barely hears her whisper, “You’re late,” under the guise of pressing her lips to his cheek. Looking back at Adora, Glimmer gives her a fond shake of the head. “Just because it’s not Catra…” 

“Well we’re getting married tomorrow, why wouldn’t I want to see her?” Adora returns, sputtering as heat crawling up her neck anyway. Her grip tightens on the hilt of her sword and she looks down, surprised to have summoned it. With peace reigning across Etheria, she’d used it less to fight and more to help others—the strength that came with She-Ra was useful when moving heavy objects—but the action must’ve been instinctual after Glimmer had asked. Or maybe she can chalk it up to butterflies for the wedding, given the fact that there are around twenty-four hours left before she’s standing at the altar. Whatever the reason, she releases her hold on the sword, ready to let it disappear back to wherever it comes from only to jump as Glimmer teleports to her side, snatching the weapon out of the air. “Why are you—”

“Perfuma has an idea for a flower arrangement,” she explains vaguely, pausing to share another unexplained glance with Bow before vanishing in another shower of glitter. “Bye!”

Adora stares at the fading glitter for a long moment, blinking. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing!” Bow says, a little too loudly. “I’m sure she’ll be back. Anyway, why haven’t you changed yet?”

She looks back at him, realizing he’s already formally dressed, ready with his fancy cape, gold cuffs and bared midriff. Closing her eyes, she flops back onto the pile of cushions meant to be a couch. Maybe it is, underneath all the pillows. “We still have time before the rehearsal, what’s the rush?”

“Well you don’t want to be late!” he exclaims, voice cracking just the slightest.

“Catra’s probably going to be late too,” she points out, rolling over to bury herself deeper into the cushions.

“But this is _important_! She won’t be!”

“Yeah, well, cadet training used to be important too. She still made _me_ do most of the work before showing up at the last second.” Adora winces at her words—it was a joke, to be fair, but she doesn’t like thinking about a time where Catra had felt like she needed to hold back, to not be proud of everything she was. She’d shown up late to training sessions on purpose, because she didn’t think it _mattered_ whether she was there or not.

That habit was gone now. Catra showed up late when she wanted to, knowing others—not only Adora—cared if she was present.

Letting out a sound that was both a sigh and a laugh, she stands up, walking over to the changing screen. Her dress is hung beside it, the soft white of the fabric almost glowing, framed in the light of the moonset through the window. She’d wanted the dress to be simple—much to Castaspella’s dismay—but it was what she pictured.

She’d wanted her whole wedding to be simple, in fact—it didn’t matter how tall the arbour was, or what shade the flowers in the garlands were—all she wanted was to say her vows to the woman she loved in front of their friends. She’d never wanted it to become the enormous affair it had become, with enough invitations and preparation to rival Princess Prom.

At least she’d gotten what she wanted with the dress.

As she looks at it now, sliding it reverentially off the hanger, she’s reminded of the last Princess Prom. When they’d gotten ready that night, Catra had been with her, teasing that they’d never go back to the Fright Zone if it wasn’t for Scorpia and Perfuma’s impressive redecorating. Adora had laughed along, nodding, all the while trying not to panic about the small box tucked in a hidden pocket of a similar white dress—though it had been decidedly fancier with golden embellishments. The All Princess Ball still had rules, after all.

“Hey, Bow?” she asks, her friend now having replaced her seat on the couch. “Where’s Catra? I thought she’d be in here to get ready.”

“Wh—” He lets out a choked noise, waving his hands. “You can’t see Catra yet! That’s bad luck!”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to see her on the actual day of the wedding,” she says, walking behind the screen. “That’s tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, but—You shouldn’t see her yet anyway!”

“Well, I’ll see her soon enough, won’t I?” she remarks, changing. “Which, I don’t get the point of. Your wedding traditions are all weird—I’m not allowed to see her on the day of the wedding, but I’ll see her later tonight? Why do I even have to wear the dress? Doesn’t that ruin the surprise tomorrow?”

“Just—! That’s how it works!” he says, his voice squeaking. “Trust me! My dads did the same thing!”

“ _Ugh_ ,” she groans—the sound so annoyed Mermista would be proud. “I don’t get it. Why can’t I just see my wife?” Adora likes saying the word wife, even if Catra isn’t technically hers yet. It holds more weight than _girlfriend_ , or _fiancée_ , or even _partner_. ‘Wife’ means the person she’s choosing to spend the rest of her life with, the person she would give herself to and would be given in return. ‘Wife’ means loved.

Before Bow can respond, she hears the telltale _whoosh_ of Glimmer’s teleportation with the expected flash of light accompanying the sound. When Adora steps out from behind the screen, previous clothes left behind, she finds Glimmer murmuring to Bow in a low tone she hadn’t known her friend was capable of.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Bow shouts, both of them wheeling around to face her in unison. It’s odd, but Adora’s suspicions are pushed from the forefront of her mind as bright smiles erupt across their expressions at the same time.

“Adora!” Glimmer gushes, materializing by her side. “You look beautiful!”

“Thanks, but, uh, you guys have already seen me in this,” she says, her voice quieting at the end of her sentence as she smoothes her palms self-consciously down the sides of the dress.

“Still, you look…happy,” Bow adds, coming up beside her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, steering her to look at their reflections in the waterfall. “Even more happy than usual.”

“I feel like it,” she admits under her breath. “Happy. I am, I mean.”

“You’re allowed to be,” Glimmer says, beaming up at her. “You’ve done so much, Adora, not just for us, or Etheria, but everyone. You’re allowed to be happy. You always have.”

Adora smiles at their reflections again, noticing that Glimmer’s gotten dressed too now, regal gown and crown and all. They all look happy, and she can’t help but think of them at their beginning, practically a decade ago. Younger, definitely dumber, not yet having gone through the years to come, highs and lows included. Her vision grows fuzzy at the edges as her eyes begin to sting.

“No, don’t cry!” Bow blurts out, raising his voice suddenly. He shifts to grasp her shoulders, shaking her slightly as his eyes flare wide with panic. “There’s too much left to do today!”

“I know, I know!” she says, blinking a few times. “I know, I just—” Her gaze strays from Bow back to Glimmer, to the diadem perched securely around her head. “Do you think…?”

“I _know_ she’d be so proud of you, Adora,” she answers, understanding immediately. Glimmer takes her hand, squeezing gently. “She would have loved to see you come this far. To be here now, today.”

“Oh,” she manages, blinking faster now. Her control slips when Bow gathers them all into a hug, his grip tight. She ducks her head against his shoulder, pressing her eyes shut against the tears. “I just hope she knows somehow, that, um, we did it. Her sacrifice…she—we did it.”

“We did,” Bow agrees, as Glimmer says, “She knows. She knows.”

After some time—Adora doesn’t pay attention how long—she breathes deeply, ready to pull away when there’s a loud crash somewhere outside. The sound isn’t distant, but it isn’t right outside her window either. Still, she moves toward the windows facing the Whispering Woods to check, stopped only by Glimmer’s hand tugging on her wrist.

“I got it!” she says, surprisingly unbothered about the disturbance. She gives Adora a cheerful smile, pushing her back to Bow. “I’ll check, don’t worry. Stay with Bow!”

“You sure—?”

“Yep!” Glimmer disappears with another flash of purple-tinted light, wiggling her fingers in a wave as her after-image disperses.

“Do you think she’s okay? That was a really loud—”

“I’m sure she’s got it covered,” Bow assures, smiling. He sits back down on the couch, patting the space beside him. “So how do you feel? Ready to marry Catra?”

“Definitely,” she says instantly, a smile crossing her face without a second thought. She doesn’t hesitate—why would she? She’s always loved Catra, even when she probably shouldn’t have. The thought sparks another in her head and she lowers her gaze a bit, fingers weaving together restlessly. “I mean, I haven’t written my vows yet though, but I’m sure it’s fine—”

“What?” Bow jumps to his feet, the panic in his eyes magnifying by ten. “You haven’t written your vows?”

“What’s the big deal?” she says, trying to get him to sit back down. She lets out an apprehensive laugh when he doesn’t move, attempting to reassure him. “Netossa told me she did the same thing with Spinnerella and they turned out totally fine! It won’t destroy the wedding if I write them tonight—”

“Right!” he interrupts, scrambling to grab a scrap piece of paper and throwing it haphazardly in her direction. “Right, just, uh, maybe you should try to write them now? And be prepared?”

“What? Bow, I’m not going to write it _now_ ,” she scoffs.

“Why not?” he says, the crack in his voice louder this time as panic starts to creep in. “We still have a little time before the wed—”

“Did somebody say _Swift Wind_?” The doors swing open to reveal the horse’s proud stance, mane flowing in an odd passing breeze. The moment ends quickly as Swift Wind trots into the room, tossing his head for the added effect. “Adora! Are you ready to go yet? They’re almost ready to go at the, um, the _rehearsal_.”

“Sorry, not happening!” Bow plants himself right in the middle of her path, hands coming out to stop the horse. “We are _not_ leaving this room until Adora has her vows ready!”

“Adora!” Swift Wind gasps, peering down at her over Bow’s head. “You don’t have your vows yet?”

“Maybe!”

Swift Wind leans even closer, eyes narrowed as he stays silent—wordlessly doubtful.

“Okay, so I don’t!” She crosses her arms defensively. “I don’t see how this is a problem. I have time tonight to get them done—It’ll be a piece of cake!”

“Adora, do you remember when we were fighting that Elemental at my dads’ library?” Bow asks, dropping the attempt to stop Swift Wind as he turns around to face her. “The time you and Glimmer first met them? Because you said those exact same words and it rammed you into the second floor!”

“So that wasn’t the best example!” she says, “It doesn’t always end badly—Back me up here, Swifty!”

The horse avoids looking directly at her, clearing his throat as his ears twitch skittishly. Adora sighs.

“See? This is a disaster!” Letting out a noise halfway between a wail and a groan, Bow crumples onto the couch, head in his hands. “The wedding’s ruined!”

“Uh…Swift Wind, can you wait outside for a second?” she asks, exchanging a glance with her steed. Quickly, Swift Wind bobs his head in agreement, already backing out the door. Once the door closes behind his exit, Adora turns her attention back to Bow. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that this wedding is going to be a mess! I mean, you don’t have your _vows_ , Adora! How are you supposed to go through with a marriage when you didn’t have anything prepared to say at the altar?”

“Bow—”

“You made _me_ your maid of honour!” he barrels on, voice cracking in dismay. “I’m supposed to make sure your wedding is _perfect_ and everything you would ever want, but I’m totally failing! And the longer we stay here talking, the later we’ll be to the w—rehearsal!”

“Bow, look at me,” she says firmly. “Look at me.” She waits for him to actually listen before continuing with a grin, “ _It’s not going to be perfect_ —and that’s okay! Do you think I wanted to get married to the love of my life in front of people I barely know from the other kingdoms? It’s not what I would’ve chosen but you know what? Who cares? Either way, after tomorrow Catra will be my wife and I’ll get to celebrate with you and Glimmer and everyone. _That_ ’s what I want.”

“But your vows—”

“ _Bow_ ,” she says, laughing slightly as she takes his hand. “Bow, I know what I want to say. Even if the wedding was today and I wasn’t prepared at all, it doesn’t matter that I didn’t write them yet. _I love Catra_ —All I have to do is talk about that love and it’ll be okay.”

“You really believe that?” he says, head turning to watch her.

She smiles, squeezing his hand. “I _know_.”

He takes a deep breath, and his shoulders finally relax. Something in his eyes calms, and when he looks at her again, he looks the same as he had when she’d asked him to be her maid of honour—as per the First Ones’ wedding traditions George and Lance had discovered. Determined as always.

“Okay,” he says, exhaling. He straightens, walking over to the table by the side of the room to pick up something before returning in front of her. “I know we’re already late, but we can’t forget this.”

In his hands is the golden circlet she’d worn to Princess Prom, and often when officially visiting the other kingdoms—reminiscent of her headpiece as She-Ra. It’s beautiful and well-crafted, but sometimes when she puts it on, she thinks she wouldn’t mind leaving it behind for a day. To just be Adora again, the Adora from a time before all the horrors in a war, before ever leaving the Fright Zone—the Adora who just wanted to look out for the girl she loved. Adora— _just_ Adora—not Adora _and_ She-Ra.

Still, she doesn’t mind. It’s nothing more than a fantasy, and to the people closest to her heart, she _is_ Adora. In front of the princesses, in front of Bow and Glimmer, in front of _Catra_ , she’s Adora, and that’s all she ever needs to be.

Lowering her head for Bow to fix the crown in place, she smiles, thinking ahead at the rehearsal. “Glimmer’s going to be _furious_ once we get there.”

“Probably,” he agrees, stepping back once he’s done, “But I have a feeling she’ll get over it.”

Before she can ask why, he’s waving her over to the door. “Now come on, before everyone else gets mad too!”

Minutes later, she, Bow and Swift Wind take off from the courtyard with the hum of her steed’s nonsensical singing filling the air around them. Almost immediately though, Adora notices they’re heading in the _opposite_ direction from where the rehearsal had been planned. The wedding had been scheduled to happen by the waterfall behind Bright Moon since it was one of the largest spaces nearby—having proven that already at Glimmer’s coronation.

And yet, Swift Wind’s flying them _away_ from the castle, right into the deeper parts of the Whispering Woods.

“Uh, Swifty?” she says, patting the horse’s neck. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, right! You didn’t hear!” Bow jumps in, his voice higher than usual. “Um, Perfuma got really excited for the wedding when she saw all the preparations—and you know how she is!—and she accidentally grew some plants around by the waterfall!” He coughs. “Big, _big_ plants.”

“What?” she squawks, whirling around halfway in her seat to stare at him—a sentiment repeated by Swift Wind until Bow sends him a hard look.

“Right, Swift Wind?”

“Oh, yep, yep, yep!” the horse agrees, nodding rapidly as he turns around again. “Yeah, _yes_ , love that princess. Grew some apples too.”

“ _Apples_?” she says, glaring at Bow now. “When were you going to tell me?”

“It’s all under control!” he promises, raising his hands. “Really, Glimmer brought in some gardeners from Plumeria and everything’s super cool. They’re fixing it right now, and it’ll be ready for, you know, tomorrow! We just, um, moved the rehearsal here! Since it’s only us anyway, we figured it be—”

“We’re here!” Swift Wind announces, wings flapping gently as they descend. Ignoring Bow’s—suspicious—sigh of relief for now, she leans over her horse to see where exactly _here_ is. And as soon as she sees the specks of light flying into the air as they land, she knows.

It’s been a while since she and _all_ her friends gathered here together, but she comes here often with Catra. When things get a little too tense, when the days are a little too busy, she’s learned how easy it is to choose to leave it behind for a while. To disappear with her hand in Catra’s and come here—where they can lie down on the grass and take a nap curled up against each other, or hold hands as they watch varying colours paint the sky during the moonset, or simply look up at night, marveling at the stars and how they could be worlds still unexplored. All things that are doable back home, but it’s different here—in a place just for them, secluded and separate—at the heart of the Woods.

“Is everyone else already inside?” she wonders aloud, her feet hitting the ground as she slides off Swift Wind, even more sparks flickering into being around her. She smiles at the slight tingling sensation of magic against her skin, reaching out to touch the golden lights as she glances back at Bow.

He shares another secretive look with Swift Wind before meeting her gaze, also dismounting. “Well, we kept the surprise as long as we could.” And without any explanation on what he just said, he whistles, a clear, distinct sound.

Nothing happens.

Then, all at once, the sound of rustling behind the guarding trees fades—what she’d incorrectly assumed to be usual sounds in the Woods, the wind passing between branches or the leaves crackling in the canopy but now seemed to resemble _voices_ —and the gap between the two trunks begins to widen. The beckoning glow of the clearing behind it flares brighter, a shaft of light falling upon her as the branches above the entrance weave into an arch.

Perfuma alone walks through, her face lighting up as she sees Adora. “You made it!” she squeals, leaping forward the last few steps to tackle her with a hug. “When Bow didn’t get you here on time, we were worried something happened! That he told the truth or—”

“Hey!” Bow protests, miffed. “I wasn’t gonna do that!”

“Well, you kinda did,” Swift Wind snickers, nudging Bow in the side. Bow shrugs him off, glaring.

“You almost did the same thing!”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Perfuma says as cheerfully as she can, taking a deep breath. “My point is, you’re here now! And besides, we had our own, _ahem_ , complications.” Her right eye twitches.

Adora remembers the crash that she’d heard earlier, all the way back in Bright Moon, and decides not to ask. “Right.”

“Don’t worry about it, Scorpia handled it and we’re all ready for you now! How are you feeling?” Grinning slyly, she knocks Adora’s shoulder with her own. “Excited, I hope?”

“About…the rehearsal?”

Perfuma blinks. Once, twice. “Oh! You don’t know yet? Really?”

“I _told_ you guys, I can keep a secret!” Bow insists, him and Swift Wind walking closer, still pushing each other back and forth.

“I’m telling her!” Perfuma calls, and the two both start griping about the choice immediately.

“I’m her maid of honour!” Bow argues, as Swift Wind nudges him to the side again, harder than before.

“And _I’m_ her sacred horse!”

“Tell me _what_ , exactly?” she interrupts, unsure about who to look to for an answer.

Perfuma giggles, sweeping a hand dramatically towards the Woods. “That this is your wedding, silly!”

The trees rumble again, withdrawing further to reveal the clearing at the heart. The glow of the magic brightens momentarily before receding, finally unveiling the wedding— _her_ wedding.

Her heart leaps into her throat as her eyes land first on Catra, as always. Her wife—because that’s what Catra will be, even earlier than anticipated—smirks back at her, a hint of fang peeking past her curled lips. Yet she says nothing, silently adjusting the cuff of her sleeve with her gaze firmly stuck on Adora’s.

Blinking quickly, Adora looks away briefly from Catra’s mismatched eyes to her clothes. Under _everyone_ ’s strict orders, they hadn’t been given the luxury of picking their attire together—you weren’t allowed to see what the other would wear until the actual ceremony, a tradition that wasn’t just from the First Ones, but also followed around the kingdoms.

And now they’re really here. At the _actual ceremony_.

There’s no criteria for clothing at a First Ones wedding. George and Lance hadn’t found enough information before Adora had decided she wanted to find a ring and get down on one knee for Catra, but they did discover early on about the use of the colour white. Despite Catra’s usual friction with following rules, her suit _is_ white—and striking and distinctive and so, _so_ beautiful. Or maybe she’s biased, because the love of Adora’s life is wearing it.

For the slightest second, amidst the hushed whispers exchanged in the small crowd and Perfuma’s quiet giggle as she waits expectantly and the crunch of grass as Bow and Swift Wind approach, it feels like the world shrinks down to her and Catra.

Then Adora freezes, dragged into a memory so very long ago. One where she’d gone voluntarily into the heart of an empire, where she’d been cut off from her friends and forced to face somebody who used to be one, where she’d been struck with complete terror and dread and panic as Horde Prime taunted her. Where Catra had still worn white, but it was matched with hollow green eyes and an empty voice—still beautiful and everything Adora wanted, but not in her own control.

Prime had cut her hair short back then, robbed Catra’s mane in yet another show of authority, of power—but she’d still been beautiful. Catra herself had shorn it even closer in her own act of rebellion, of taking back control, and she’d still been beautiful. But Adora thinks she might love Catra best here, now, with her hair grown out and brushing her shoulders, because it’s what Catra’s chosen. It’s unbound for once, something she rarely sees, only caught at night before bed or in the early morning nestled into each other. She wonders if it had been heavily _suggested_ by Scorpia, as she’d experienced with Glimmer, or if it was another wordless message— _I love you, I trust you, here I am without hiding._

“What do you think?” Perfuma chirps, excitement dancing in her tone. She pulls herself away from staring at Catra to find the princess beaming at her, holding out Adora’s own sword. Only it looks different now, white flowers and leaves and vines twining together around the blade in decoration, leaving the golden hilt untouched.

For her to carry, she realizes, like the brides pictured in the pottery shards Bow’s fathers had unearthed. A bouquet, personalized.

 _Perfuma has an idea for a flower arrangement_ , comes Glimmer’s words, echoing back at her from earlier. So everyone really was in on it but her.

“It’s—It’s amazing,” she says honestly, finally answering Perfuma. She looks back at the clearing where Glimmer stands, hands clasped and prepared to officiate as queen of Bright Moon, under an arch of the same white flowers—which were starting to become a theme. Noticing Adora’s stare, the side of Glimmer’s mouth lifts up smugly and she wiggles her fingers as she’d done earlier, leftover sparkles drifting in the air from the movement. “I mean, it’s perfect, really. How did you guys plan this? I was suspicious, but I never thought it’d be my own _wedding_!”

Perfuma’s smile turns more towards a grimace. “Believe me, it wasn’t as easy as you think. But it’s wonderful that you like it!” she says hastily, clapping her hands together.

“Catra was really specific about what to do,” Bow explains, “Like _really_ specific.”

She laughs, looking at her soon-to-be wife again. “Of course she was.”

“Uh, that wasn’t a compliment,” Swift Wind says behind her, but Adora’s already distracted again, watching Catra. Those blue and gold eyes meet hers and Catra tilts her head in a question, smirk still playing on the edge of her lips. She looks away though as Scorpia asks her something, Catra’s maid of honour proudly sporting a crown of flowers in varying shades of scarlet around her hair.

“Ready to get married?” Bow echoes Catra’s question beside her and Adora has to drag her gaze away from Catra again. A flicker of motion catches her eye as Scorpia gives them an enthusiastic thumbs up—or rather, pincers-up—from Catra’s response.

Adora grins, looking over at Bow. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”

Swift Wind is the first to prance down the aisle, scattering white petals along the grass from a basket between his teeth. Adora wonders idly how insistent he must’ve been on the subject, seeing as it was preserved from the plan for the original wedding rather than discarded as Catra had done with so many other elements.

Standing in the shadow of the trees with Bow next to her—Perfuma having hurried forward to take her seat after adorning Swift Wind with more white flowers in his mane and tail, claiming he was underdressed—she looks around for Melog. She hasn’t seen the cat all day, but she _knows_ there’s no way Catra took them out of the procession.

Just as she’s searching for them, a quiet purr reaches her ears. The form of a cat traces itself in the air by her legs before Melog materializes, a square cushion with two glinting bands on their back. Melog meows, seemingly _winking_ at Adora before bounding forward to follow Swift Wind. She holds her breath but the pillow holds steady, barely bouncing with Melog’s steps.

As the space cat arrives at the arbour, crossing over to Catra’s side instead of Adora’s like Swift Wind, Bow faces her one last time.

“Okay, last chance,” he says solemnly, “We can still run out of here before they catch us. It might be close but I think we can make it if you have wedding jitters—”

“No,” she interrupts, biting back a smile to match his tone, though she knows he’s joking. Mostly. “Come on, Bow, you know this is what I want. I’m not walking out on my own wedding, and I’m _definitely_ not walking out on Catra. I’m ready. I mean it.”

He cracks a grin. “Even if you don’t have your vows?”

“Even if I don’t have my vows,” she agrees, and pushes him out of the shade. “Now go, it’s your turn!”

He sighs, smile widening. “Okay. See you on the other side.”

She smirks. “Can’t wait.”

As Bow walks down the aisle, Glimmer’s own grin spreads helplessly as she meets his gaze. After the war, Bow had all but assumed the responsibilities as king by her side, even when it was just to help Glimmer and take off some of the pressure. It had been years since then, and Adora knew that Bright Moon citizens were still waiting on an official announcement. Though only Adora and Catra had been there to complete the Best Friend Squad when he and Glimmer had exchanged Angella’s old earrings under the glow of the Moonstone at midnight, couples did renew vows—as Netossa and Spinerella had done following the end of the war—and the people were waiting with bated breath.

Bow gets to the end of the aisle, nodding at Catra and flashing a quick grin at Glimmer, before moving to the side of the arbour, opposite Scorpia flanking Catra. Then he nods again, this time to the musician seated at the piano behind everyone. The woman—the only person Adora doesn’t know in this crowd of friends—dips her head in acknowledgement, transitioning smoothly from the joyful processional she’d been playing during the others’ walk to something different, more old-fashioned in a way, as Adora finally steps forward to the aisle.

Everyone sitting on the benches stands as the music changes, as subtle as it is, heads turning to look at _her_.

Catra straightens, squaring her shoulders as she eyes Adora, a small smirk unfurling on the corner of her lips. Adora has to fight to keep her smile even as she starts to walk down the grass, the blades brushing against her ankles under the hem of her dress. When she’d gone to the tailors with Bow, she’d specifically requested to have the trim high enough to allow proper movement—not to fight, but because she wanted the ability to enjoy the night without needing to worry if the back of her dress would be caught.

She keeps her steps steady as she walks, holding her sword point down. Both the blade and the flowers shine faintly with light, the radiance from the sword haloing the blooms. Her eyes sweep over her friends along the aisle, here with her on what might be the happiest day of her life.

Her attention lands on Perfuma first, sobbing quietly into a handkerchief. She’s worried for a second, having seen the princess ecstatic minutes ago before Perfuma looks up, giving Adora an earnest, if watery, smile. On one side are Mermista and Seahawk, hand in hand as Seahawk gives her an obvious wink while Mermista shakes her head, smiling in resignation. On the other is Entrapta, sitting on Emily instead of the bench, her hair waving at Adora while the bot beeps cheerfully.

The other bench holds Spinnerella and Netossa, arm in arm, the wives sitting beside Frosta, the teenager in turn beside Micah and Castaspella. Micah had been excited when Adora had told him the news—or rather, Swift Wind had told him and he’d come to congratulate her—and he offers her a bright smile. It’s matched by her sister, who, though had put a lot of effort into preparing the wedding for tomorrow, seems content at the moment to enjoy this smaller ceremony.

And then Adora’s reaching the end of the aisle, her steps slowing as she’s finally standing in front of Catra. Catra, who she hasn’t seen all day, having been forced to sleep in separate rooms the previous night. Adora had protested the decision—when the war had ended, they’d always slept in the same room, the same bed. First because of the nightmares that would creep up in the dead of night, when they knew everything was safe, but their minds couldn’t yet grasp the truth in their dreams, then simply because they didn’t want to be apart. But Catra hadn’t fought last night, apparently all in support of following tradition—which Adora now realizes was so she wouldn’t know if Catra had gotten away early to help for preparations.

As if sensing her thoughts, or at least, the love welling up in Adora now, Catra’s smirk—near constant since they’ve seen each other this entire time—softens into a smile, the tilt of her lips almost shy. “Hey, Adora.”

Adora can’t help herself, the tears she’d been withholding since the moment she, Bow and Glimmer had all stood together in front of the waterfall returning with a vengeance. “You’re going to make a lot of people mad tomorrow.”

Catra lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “This isn’t about them.”

She blinks rapidly to hold the tears back. “I love you,” she manages, through the rising lump in her throat.

“Save it for our vows, dummy,” she teases back, before adding, freely, “I love you too.”

Letting out a shaky laugh, Adora takes the final steps to stop in front of Glimmer. She turns to hand her sword to Bow before facing Catra properly in front of the arbour, finding that she can’t decide whether the twinkling in those mismatched eyes is a reflection from the stars surfacing in the sky as it darkens fully, or if it’s because they’re here, getting married. Completely happy.

Catra reaches out to take Adora’s hands—claws sheathed, as they often, or always, are by now. The only times Adora’s seen them at this point is when the nightmares return, few and far between, but even then, they disappear quickly once Catra’s mind catches up to the present, and Adora can bring her back. “That was your signal, Sparkles.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Glimmer says, laughing. She clears her throat officially, clasping her hands again as she looks out on the small gathering. “Princesses and friends, and friends who are princesses. We’ve come here today to witness and commemorate the union between two beloved people; Adora, Princess of Power, and Catra, General of Bright Moon.”

Adora snickers quietly, only so Catra can hear her. “ _General_.”

“ _Princess_ ,” she counters, no bite in her voice.

Glimmer clears her throat again, the sound more exasperated this time. So they weren’t _that_ quiet. “Tonight, we celebrate love, and the one that these two have found in each other. If there is anything better than loving, it is being loved, and accepting it. I think we can all agree that they’ve shown what it can truly accomplish in its power—we wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

A ripple of laughter.

“And yet,” she continues, “Love is not always easy. Love is not a checklist of moments, or a series of tasks to complete. Love is not just the highs of being together, but rather a combination with the lows. Love is a culmination of standing hand in hand against anything that may come your way, and making your way out together. It is messy, it is hard, and it is _worth it_ —but only if you choose to take it on.”

Adora hears a sniff in the crowd, and as she glances at the crowd through the corner of her eye, it’s Micah wiping away tears with the edge of Castaspella’s cloak. “That’s my baby girl!” he whispers, bawling again.

“Catra,” Glimmer says, and the woman in question looks at the queen. “Will you choose this marriage? Will you be there for Adora in the highs, the lows and the moments in between? Will you stay, through the messy, through the hard and anything and everything else? Will you stand by her no matter what you face?”

“I will,” Catra answers without hesitation, squeezing Adora’s hands as she meets Glimmer’s eyes.

“Adora.” She looks up, the queen’s gaze now on her. “Will you choose this marriage? Will you be there for Catra in the highs, the lows and the moments in between? Will you stay, through the messy, through the hard and anything and everything else? Will you stand by her no matter what you face?”

She doesn’t pause, Glimmer barely finishing her sentence before Adora’s speaking, her voice sure, confident. “I will.”

Her friend laughs a little at Adora’s excitement, turning her focus onto their group of friends. “And in the spirit of festivity and affirmation, do you, friends, give your blessing and support of this night and of this ceremony, and wish Catra and Adora a wonderful life together?”

“We do!” they chorus back, Swift Wind’s voice louder than the rest as he sings out the words. Adora laughs, dropping her head for a second as she smiles.

“Your love has not been without its challenges,” Glimmer says, her voice going softer for a moment, “But it is this knowledge, of having seen both love’s smile and its fangs, that will make your love all the more stronger. You have walked the path of wonders and hurdles alike, but it is not over. Tonight, this union is but one more stop on your road together, and despite any more trials that come your way, this wedding is proof of your commitment to each other, and to this relationship.”

Her speech reaches a lull as she lets her words sink in, and in the small pause, Adorar hears more than one sniffle from the direction of her friends. “And now for the vows. Catra?” Glimmer asks, gesturing towards the woman in question. Adora exhales a little, suddenly a lot more uncertain about the absence of her own vows.

Catra catches the noise and glances at her, a smile tugging at her mouth. She lets go of Adora’s hands momentarily, reaching into the side pocket of her suit. Two folded sheets of paper are in her grasp when she faces Adora again.

“I know you don’t have your vows done,” she says first, and Adora blanches. Before she can respond, Catra takes one of her hands again, still smiling. “It’s okay! It’s okay, I swear. _I know you_ , remember? I’m not mad, you wouldn’t have known—or you shouldn’t have, depending on whether Arrow Boy can keep a secret.”

Bow’s sigh of relief morphs into an indignant gasp as he hears the end of her sentence. “Do I need to remind you nobody knew _anything_ about my family before Adora came here?”

“Wait until your own wedding, Arrows,” Catra retorts, her tone empty of any true malice. “Then you can talk.”

Bow grumbles to himself until Glimmer’s eyes dart pointedly to him, and he falls silent.

“Anyway,” Catra says, continuing as if Bow hadn’t interjected, “I knew you’d be too busy trying to make sure everyone was happy to get your vows done until tonight—even when you take breaks you’re still busy. But since that obviously won’t happen anymore, I thought I’d just bring this for you.” She holds out one of the papers, a blush starting to crawl up to her cheeks. “I, um, wrote my vows using this, so maybe you could…? It’s the letters that we wrote, uh, a while ago, for one of Perfuma’s exercises.”

“It’s to help you release all that negative energy from your past!” she calls out from the crowd. “I’m so proud of your inclusion of this into your vows, Catra! Recognition is always important!”

Catra’s cheeks are glowing red at this point, but she turns meekly to give Perfuma a thumbs up. “Got it, thank you!”

Adora unfolds the letter, smiling, first at the words on the sheet, then at Catra. “When we wrote to our past selves.”

“Yeah, um…” Catra shifts on her feet. “I just thought we could acknowledge, like, how we’ve built up to this, even the bad parts. I mean, even when they were bad, I…” She swallows, and Adora squeezes her hand gently. “Even when they were bad, those bad parts helped me realize what I was doing was wrong, and what I really wanted.”

She doesn’t need to say it, her intent clear in her eyes as she stares at Adora. _You_.

“This is amazing, Catra! You’re doing amazing!” Perfuma cheers, jumping to her feet before catching herself. Waving sheepishly for them to keep going, she settles back in her seat. “Sorry! I’ll just watch now!”

“Yeah, well, uh, this is a letter to…the girl I was before, I guess.” Catra takes a deep breath, and starts to read from the letter. 

“ _Catra: I know it feels terrible right now, like it’s all crumbled to pieces and everything you’ve sacrificed to make it to this point has been for nothing. I know that you think you can climb your way back. But I also know you don’t want to, not anymore._

 _I’m telling you I know how it feels right now, but I’m also telling you that things will improve, and they will get better. I’m telling you that if you do what’s right and do what’s good, then, even if you’re misunderstood now, you_ will _make your way past this. There is a way through, and when you find it, you’ll find yourself in a place where you matter. Where you’ll be safe, and accepted, and welcome. Where you’ll be loved._

 _That person you used to dream of; you’ll find her, and you’ll find your home. And no matter what it takes, no matter what happens on that path, you’ll find that life where Adora is next to you._ ”

When Catra looks up again, Adora’s vision is already going blurry, the tears coming back for another run—she suspects it’ll happen often tonight. Catra lowers the letter, squeezing Adora’s hand.

“And now I have,” she breathes, and Adora knows she isn’t reading from the page anymore. “Now I’ve found you, I’m with you, and you’re really here.”

The first tear spills down Adora’s face.

“Do you…” She hesitates, and Adora squeezes Catra’s hand back, trying to encourage her without speaking—she doesn’t know if she can, right now, with excitement and love and joy all colliding in her chest. “Do you remember what I said, the day I left you?”

Somehow, she musters her voice. “Which part?”

Catra’s smile curves into something sadder, remorseful despite Adora’s joke—it’s an expression that’s become fairly rare, as time has passed and Adora’s reassured her that her actions were of the past, that she wasn’t that person anymore. But it resurfaces for its moments. “‘Now come on,’” she quotes, “‘Can we go home already?’”

The memory dawns on her as she remembers—not that she’d really forgotten. Those years where she’d been without Catra, especially back when she was still adjusting to Bright Moon and being a part of the Rebellion, she’d practically tortured herself with it, searching for where things had gone wrong, turning over scenario after scenario in an attempt to see how it could’ve all been different. She’d _known_ with such certainty that Catra wasn’t a bad person—had seen it all the time in the Horde—that she couldn’t understand why she’d decided not to go with Adora, and had been, admittedly, too afraid to consider the glaring reason she’d also wanted Catra to come.

“I was wrong when I said that,” Catra says in a whisper, the words trapping themselves in the air between them. “Because the Horde wasn’t home, it never was. All along, it was _you_. So I think, um, this feeling I get every time I see you, or kiss you, or hold your hand, or just…every time I’m just _with_ you, that’s…It’s the feeling of coming home.”

“ _Catra_ ,” she says, her voice breaking on the second syllable.

“I wish I never doubted you,” she confesses, her voice trembling faintly. Adora opens her mouth to speak but Catra shakes her head, her eyes slipping shut as tears well at the edge of her lashes. “No, I do. I know I can’t erase what’s already happened, but I should’ve gone with you. _I wanted to_ , have I ever told you that? I really did, but I let my…my hurt, my _pride_ get in the way, of all things. Like I’d ever be stupid enough to do that again—be afraid to let you in.”

Catra tips her head back to look at the sky as she sifts for the right words. “I wish I never doubted you, but I know that I can’t change that, so I give—I _promise_ this instead. We’ll fix this, together, with your hand in mine, and we’ll stand under the stars.” Satisfied, she nods, her smile a shade more subdued but real all the same as she lifts Adora’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back.

That’s when Glimmer interrupts, making a sound of disapproval in the back of her throat. “Hey, no kissing until you’re married! I’ll allow this, but watch yourself, Horde Scum.”

Catra laughs, lowering Adora’s hand back to its normal position in compliance. “Sure, Sparkles,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically before flashing Adora a grin, back to its full radiance. _Can you believe this?_ she’s asking, but Adora doesn’t respond, now busy trying to conjure up any vows in her mind, before her mouth tries to take over for her head—that never ended well; her case in point being any time she tried to come up with a lie spontaneously.

 _How_ is she supposed to match Catra’s vows? Her throat tightens, panic overtaking her as she wishes Bow had actually pressured her into writing them back at Bright Moon—any sort of baseline to start with, even when it had been done in a few minutes, was better than making them up on the spot!

“Adora?” Catra murmurs, squeezing her hand again. She looks up to find the feline watching her, concern etched in the pinch of her brow, the twitch of her ears. Catra’s tail curls around her free wrist as her expression clears with understanding. She repeats her name in the same hushed tone, staring right into Adora’s eyes to emphasize the movement as she blinks slowly.

She expels the tension in her body with a sigh, echoing the gesture back at Catra with a small grin. “Thanks.”

“For what?” she replies, though a smirk flickers briefly across her lips.

Laughing, she shakes her head, unfolding her own letter to skim it over. The words, penned in her own hand, float back up to the surface of her mind, and it’s easy to recall what she’d written back when Perfuma had suggested the idea. She’d been confused at first by the concept of a message to a different version of yourself from before—it wasn’t like you could exactly give a letter to yourself in another point in time—but it had been surprisingly therapeutic to get the words down and see how much she’d changed. Grown.

“Adora?” It’s Glimmer this time, peering at her tentatively.

“Right, sorry. Okay, well, here’s my letter now, to, uh.” Her eyes flick up to Catra’s, matching her smirk with her own. “To the girl I was before.”

“ _Dear Adora,_ wow. _Hi. I know everything seems crazy right now, and it could be the end of the world if you don’t fix it in time, but I’m going to let you in on a secret. You’re going to get through this. You might not know in what way, but here’s the thing, when you make it out of there, when you release the Failsafe on the Heart, you will have that life you pictured, that ‘beautiful wish’. And it will be real._

_And here’s another secret, Adora: You might think it’s by following that destiny you believe in, where you activate the Failsafe, stop Prime and save the universe. But you’re wrong. Because this destiny that you think is yours is missing one part—you think you’re the only one who can do this, so you have to do it alone._

_You’re not alone. You have the princesses, you have your friends, and you have the girl you love by your side._

_That life you have, Adora? It’s_ yours. _It’s Adora’s. Not She-Ra’s, not the weapon’s, not even the hero’s. Yours, and nobody else’s. And if you want to live it as you should, you need to learn. Learn to have happiness without fear, learn to take instead of just giving, and learn to own your destiny, rather than following whatever you think it could be._

_You are Adora, first and always. Someone who goes for loop-de-loops with Swift Wind, someone who plays board games with the Princess Alliance, someone who has sleepovers with her best friends and someone who gets to hold her girlfriend at the end of the day and kiss her._

_Dear Adora, learn to be selfish sometimes. You deserve it. And you deserve love from others. Always._ ”

Clearing her throat, Adora looks up at Catra again, her eyes misting with tears. “So, uh, it’s longer than yours.”

The sound that comes from Catra is both a laugh and a sob. “Just finish your vows so we can get married, dummy.”

Adora’s also stuck between chuckling and crying but she tries to gather herself, letting out a shuddering breath before she speaks. “I used to dream of you too. Next to me? When we went to bed in the Horde and you couldn’t climb down from the top bunk yet, I’d try to sleep without you, and it was really hard. On the nights I could do it, it would always be you in my dreams, just _being_ with you, without having to be scared. And then I’d wake up but it’d be okay, because I would wake up to you, on the other side of my bunk, and you would be there.”

Despite the bad memories of the Fright Zone, Catra’s face is indescribably fond, the warmth of their childhood together in the Horde glinting behind her eyes. As terrible as the situation had been, they’d had each other to rely on, and it had been enough.

“But now you’re really here,” she says, “You’re here, and you have been for a while. And, well, we’re getting married, so I don’t think you’re going anywhere.”

Catra grins. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know,” she answers without pausing, and Catra’s smile widens even more. Another bad memory, but they’d made their way out of Prime’s clutches too, and they’d done it together. Whenever Adora thinks back to that time, without the kernel of truth inside of her that told her she had She-Ra, it makes her blood run cold. She hadn’t ever said the words out loud, _I love you_ , but she’d known she loved Catra even without the vocal acknowledgement. What Adora doesn’t know is if She-Ra’s return would’ve been possible without her.

“I think you’re my home too. That every time that I can look at you and know that I love you and you love me, every time I wake up in our room and you’re beside me, every time I get to call you my _wife_ —” She chokes up, and cuts off, swallowing around the lump in her throat, back again. “That’s the feeling I know I’ll always have. That I’m coming home, to you.”

Coming home. That feeling had always hovered in the back of Adora’s mind when she’d been with Catra, but the first time it had been too strong to not notice had been when they’d kissed at the Heart of Etheria, when Catra had told her she loved her and saved her from falling to Prime’s virus. But the second time had been even more insistent, when Catra had taken her hand after the Heart had been destroyed, and they’d looked out on a new Etheria, a restored planet, knowing that they could be together. That the war was over.

“The war is over now,” she says, “It’s been over for a long time. But sometimes I think about it, and I know it was terrible and everyone suffered, but I feel like one moment we were at the Heart and you told me you loved me, and then I blinked, and now we’re here, and you’re next to me, and we’re getting married. Like time’s barely passed even though I know we’ve had hundreds of seconds with each other, but, well…” she trails off, still trying futilely to blink back the wet in her eyes. “I know we’re going to have hundreds more.”

She glances down at the letter again, though she knows it won’t offer anything else for her to say—she’s just trying to sort through the words crowding her head. And even as she knows she won’t be able to say it all, she’s also aware Catra already understands. Her tears roll down her face and splatter on the creases of the paper so she lowers it, knowing she’ll want to reread it in the years to come, both as a reminder of how far she’s come and as a token for this night.

“I love you, Catra,” she says firmly and Catra’s smile in response is stunning. “But I doubted you too. I _knew_ you were good, I knew you could join us and _do_ good, but after everything—” She doesn’t have to say it, Catra’s acts with the Horde lingering in the spaces between her words. She’d done the appropriate work the Alliance had demanded in reparation—reconstructing Salineas ruins and rehabilitating Horde soldiers and orphans included—without complaint to the princesses. And late at night, when she’d land face-first onto the bed next to Adora, she’d talk about how _nice_ it felt to help others, make up for what she’d done in the past.

“I didn’t want to doubt you, but I did,” she finishes. “And I can’t go back and change that, so now I’m promising you. We will fix this together. And…” She squeezes Catra’s hand for emphasis, glancing up at the stars above them. “And with your hand in mine, we will stand under the stars.”

Glimmer doesn’t start speaking immediately, allowing a moment for Adora’s words to linger around the clearing before she opens her mouth. “May I now have the rings, please.”

Scorpia turns to Melog, the cat purring again as the princess retrieves the cushion, presenting it formally to Glimmer.

“Thanks, Scorpia,” Catra adds as Glimmer selects the rings carefully, keeping one each in a palm.

Scorpia beams cheerfully, offering Catra a salute. “You got it, wildcat.”

“These rings represent the promises made here tonight,” Glimmer says solemnly, and Scorpia returns to her spot a few steps back. “They are a visible symbol of your relationship and marriage, of the trust and respect you share for each other. These rings are eternal, and just like your love, have no beginning or end.”

She holds out the rings as she finishes, the two bands identical in width and colour, but with different detailing. Catra takes the one on her side first and Adora lifts her left hand in exchange, but the gesture is instinctive, her vision focused solely on the ring. Her ring.

She and Catra had chosen the original golden rings together, a matching set, but then had each taken one off for personalization. As Catra offers it up to her now, Adora can see the First Ones writing etched on the inside of the gold. _Heart_.

“I give you this ring, that you may wear it, as I give you myself, my love, my heart, my laughter and my tears. With all that I am, I honour you.”

She’s fully crying now, the air in her lungs leaving in short bursts as she tries to catch her breath, watching with single-minded focus as Catra slides the gold band onto her ring finger. She wants to remember this forever.

“Entrapta helped me engrave it,” Catra explains, nail tapping the ring, now on Adora’s hand. “She made a bot that, um, lasered it on, I think?”

“I liked hanging out with you, Catra!” Entrapta exclaims gleefully, “Especially when it’s for _science_! It was super fun, and I figured out how to focus the laser with Emily’s mini-cousin’s help!”

“Yes, thank you, that was great!” she calls back, her mouth lifting with a slow smile as she looks at Adora. “It says heart for more than one reason, the first being to, uh,” she pauses, “Replace any bad memories from…the last time you wore the word.” The Failsafe. Adora recalls when Catra had left, running away under the cover of night from the rebel camp with Melog, even when Adora had pleaded for her to stay. But the hurt from the memory is dim. It hadn’t mattered all that much in the end, Catra had come back, as Adora had always done for her.

“Another is, well, because I first told you I loved you at the Heart of Etheria.” She stops again, her blush returning as her eyes flick down in mild embarrassment. “And the last is because, um, you’re my heart.”

Adora’s own heart melts. Before she can think any better though, she’s already quipping back, “Never to part?”

“Never,” she says, the corner of her lips turning up in a smirk. It softens again as she stares at Adora for longer, both of their hands now together. “You’re worth more than what you can give to others, you know that?”

“I do,” she replies, smiling as she squeezes Catra’s hands. “And you’re worth more than what you’ve already done, do _you_ know that?” Her _almost_ -wife nods, smiling, but Adora continues, “You’re worth everything to me—”

“And you’re priceless to _me_ —”

“And after everything, with the war and First Ones and She-Ra, and Princess Proms and weddings and rings, we’ve only begun,” she says— _promises_.

“We’ve only begun,” Catra echoes, the tears gathered at the corners of her eyes falling down her face.

She squeezes Catra’s hand again before letting go, reaching over to pick up the other ring from Glimmer’s hand. This one, chosen by her, is also simple like Adora’s own, but with one winking gem set in the middle of the band. And upon closer look, not a gem at all, but a blue stone, polished and cut.

 _Keep it_ , Adora had told her once, when they’d found it at an abandoned forge in the Fright Zone. All Catra had needed to say was that it was nice, and Adora had wanted her to have it.

 _You can keep it_ , Catra had answered. _It matches your eyes._

Maybe putting it in the ring was selfish of her. But she’d learned it was okay to be selfish sometimes, hadn’t she? And besides, the stone was _more_ than just a piece of rock with the same colour as Adora’s eyes, it was a reminder. That they’d come so far, and that they had and now, always would have, each other.

It didn’t hurt that the mix of blue and gold matched Catra’s eyes either. Both of them were represented, both of them were equal.

“I give you this ring,” she recites, taking Catra’s hand once again, “That you may wear it, as I give you myself, my love, my heart, my laughter and my tears. With all that I am, I honour you.”

She hears the hitch in Catra’s throat as Adora slides the ring onto her left hand, onto her fourth finger. It’s a warning before she breathes out a laugh, tears streaming down her face to land on the grass.

“Hey, Adora?” Catra waits until she looks up. “I love you.”

“Good, because I love you,” Adora says, grinning as she leans in.

Glimmer clears her throat, exasperated as she pulls them back slightly. “Can’t you guys wait until I actually pronounce you married?”

“Sorry,” Adora mumbles, partially chastised. A larger part of her just feels impatient, and it seems Catra feels the same as she rolls her eyes.

“Can’t you hurry it up, Sparkles?”

“Well, maybe I could if you guys didn’t keep straying from the actual ceremony!” Glimmer exclaims, huffing. Her voice starts out with a hint of testiness before it fades as she continues, formal, “Now may those who wear these rings live in love. May they always have happiness, by making each other happy. May everything said and done here tonight become a truth every day. May they find the space to grow and learn, and may they be able to do it together.” She hesitates, gaze darting between the two before she adds, unscripted, “And may you stand, together, under the stars.”

Catra’s lips lift into another smile, and Adora’s grin widens to match. She loves her so much.

“With the power—”

“Wait,” Catra interrupts, and she twitches. Sensing her worry, Catra turns her smile to Adora, ignoring as Glimmer glowers with a near-silent—but not close enough—growl. “One last thing, okay, Sparkles? Calm down.” She lets one of Adora’s hands go, reaching out to tap the circlet crowning Adora’s hair, the one Bow had set on her earlier. “You don’t have to wear this, you know.”

Adora lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “Well, you _are_ marrying She-Ra too. And she’s kinda sort of a big part of my life.”

Her brows furrow, and she doesn’t speak for a moment, staring at Adora. Then, swiftly, she lifts the crown off her head without hesitation, tossing it behind her haphazardly. Scorpia barely ducks in time, and the headpiece lands somewhere on the grass, out of sight.

“Catra! Why did you—”

“ _You_ are She-Ra,” she says fiercely, “ _You_. And you are _more_ than She-Ra. You might’ve saved the world as her, but do you think I would’ve fallen in love with _just_ She-Ra? You’re the one I’m marrying. She-Ra doesn’t matter. Not to me.”

“But—”

“And it shouldn’t matter to you! Who _cares_ if you’re She-Ra? You’ve done so much as yourself, Adora, She-Ra’s great and all, but I love _you_. _I love you_. And even if you weren’t her, I would marry you anyway. I said you’re priceless to me, right? Whether you have a dumb tiara or not isn’t going to change that.” Her eyes are defiant, blazing, and her chest is heaving from the vehemence in her words and Catra’s so captivating in this moment that Adora feels like she needs to catch her breath too.

“I love you too,” she whispers.

The line of Catra’s shoulders relaxes, and she shakes her head slightly, the fragment of a smile on her face. “Tell me that finally got through that thick skull of yours.”

“It did.” She’s already known her worth beyond She-Ra, has found it in the years since the war, but much like Catra’s acts with the Horde, they still crawl back every once in a while. It didn’t matter, not when Catra would always be there to fight them back alongside her. And she knows that here, in this clearing filled with friends rather than strangers in front of a waterfall, the loss of the crown won’t bother anyone.

“Okay,” Catra says softly, tucking back a strand of hair that had fallen out of place when she’d had taken off the circlet. She leans in and Glimmer tuts, but all Catra does is brush a kiss to her forehead. When she pulls back, her smile is warm and bright as she glances at Glimmer. “Now we’re good.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Glimmer sighs. Pressing her hands together, she looks between the two of them, a smile threatening to break through the official manner she’d been keeping through the ceremony. “With the power vested in me as Queen of the kingdom of Bright Moon, it is my honour and delight to declare you married and partners in life, for life.” The grin she’d been keeping at bay cracks across her expression. “You may now kiss your wife.”

Adora turns to Catra, jubilant, to find her _wife_ looking back at her, tears slipping down her face. She cups Adora’s cheek with one hand—once an action from others that was manipulative, controlling and now simply a gesture of affection—and squeezes her hand tightly with the other. Adora presses their foreheads together, basking in the cheers of her friends and the quiet rumble emanating from Catra’s chest as she purrs.

“We’re married,” she murmurs, the word foreign and new, but entirely cherished. They were _married_. “We made it.”

She expects Catra to reply, but instead she closes the gap between their lips and _finally_ , they’re kissing. And her wife’s answer is in the kiss itself, in the way their teeth knock against each other clumsily, their matching grins making the kiss much harder than it needs to be.

 _The feeling of coming home_ , Catra had said. It resounds fully in Adora, the elation and joy blooming in her chest creating the sense that she’s floating, flying back into space with the feeling of the kiss and her arm around Catra’s waist. And yet, she’s also safe, grounded by Catra’s hand in her own and cupping her face.

 _It’s perfect_ , she thinks, as she draws back from the kiss. Catra’s eyelids flutter as she opens her eyes, and the sweetest smile spreads across her expression.

“Yeah,” she whispers, just to Adora, “We made it.”

They empty the middle of the clearing after the ceremony, pushing the benches to the side as Scorpia and Perfuma bring in a long table full of sweets and desserts, though the arbour remains untouched—nobody seems to want the symbol moved. Seahawk pulls out a violin out of nowhere and Mermista follows with a flute, joining the woman playing the piano. They start up a tune, not too slow or fast, but nice, as Catra grabs her hands and pulls her out onto the grass for the first dance.

“Hey,” she says, as their hands cross—the dance is the same as the first time they’d danced with each other properly, with music at a party, outside of the Fright Zone. The same dance as the one at their first Princess Prom. Though Adora doesn’t discount the times where they’d spun in dizzying circles when they were kids, trying in vain to keep down their snickers before someone found them. “Do you know who’s playing the piano?”

“Oh, Swen?” Catra shrugs as they circle each other, gripping her hand tighter for a moment as she pulls her in closer, before retreating as their arms intersect. “Not really, but I figured we needed someone to play the piano, and I thought Seahawk might want to do more than just be stuck there the whole night. Scorpia said she knew someone, so.”

“Aw—” is all she gets out before Catra’s making a face, cutting her off.

“Don’t say it—” They clasp each other’s hips as they orbit one another, pausing to raise their arms and turn in another half-circle before their hands meet. 

“That’s so nice of you,” she coos and Catra groans, looking away as she spins her. She’s scowling when Adora comes back, a blush scattered across her cheeks as they press their hands together again.

“I was _not_ being nice,” she protests, following the movement of their hands as they spread in and out. “I just—He totally would’ve been complaining tomorrow about not getting to dance with Mermista if he was just playing the piano the whole time! I was saving myself from a headache.”

Adora’s nod in agreement is exaggerated as she grins. “Right. I’m sure it was _all_ for _you_.” She motions outwards around the clearing as she speaks, both of them taking a step back as they pivot to face each other.

“Obviously.” Catra smirks, moving closer with the music. “But I think it’s okay for us to be selfish and _not_ get married in front of a bunch of strangers.” The teasing confidence on her expression falters as Adora’s hands land around her hips and lift her into the air, and the red in her cheeks deepens further. Glimmer’s whoop and Bow’s laugh is easy to catch amongst everyone else’s cheers, and Catra’s lip is almost pushed out in a pout as she comes back down.

“Aw,” Adora teases, grabbing her hands again as they link at Catra’s side and over her shoulder. “Is that right?”

She ducks under their arms and takes a step back, interlinking their hands again, now smiling even as the flush on her face is slow to fade. “Well, yeah. I had to come up with something to get you back after you proposed.”

Her grin broadens even more, remembering her smug satisfaction at the expression of shock that had been on Catra’s face that night, along with—obviously—the love. “Is it a competition now?”

“I don’t know.” Catra falls back against her, hands over Adora’s at her waist and shoulder. Her face is turned to hers, the slight gleam of her smirk back along with the edge of her fang against her lip. “Isn’t it always?”

Adora leans in to kiss her, the urge overtaking her as she recalls the first time they’d been in this position. Catra had been practically purring about her plan and being able to distract Adora enough for Scorpia and the trio to grab Bow and Glimmer, but had it really been _Adora’s_ fault Catra looked amazing in a suit? No, and not to mention that it had been Adora’s first time _ever_ seeing her like that. Dressed up, confident, and absolutely extraordinary. As she is tonight, too.

Catra shifts out of the way quickly, smirk spreading wider as she grips Adora’s hip now, turning to the side as she dips her, the move that’d deviated from the dance they had been meant to follow that first Princess Prom. It’s their move now, _Catra’s_.

“Maybe,” she breathes against Catra’s mouth, so close now. “Do you win tonight, then?”

“I think we both won.” And with that, Catra kisses her.

It’s a different feeling than earlier, when they’d assured their marriage—now they’re kissing as wives, as partners—and Adora feels like the world beneath her feet is settling in with a sigh. Catra had always been able to calm her before, but this is more than that. Peace, joy.

 _Coming home_ , she thinks again.

“Finish the song, guys, _come on_!” Glimmer calls out, and the others shout in agreement. “Go kiss when you’re done!”

Catra draws back with a mock-remorseful sigh, her mouth twisting into a playfully resigned smile. “Later,” she says, and then spins Adora one last time, hand holding onto her wrist as they end the dance, standing across from each other with their hands closing the gap.

Adora smirks, this time, as Seahawk and Mermista’s melody comes to its last notes. _Later_ , she mouths, confirming.

But _later_ takes a while to get to. She’s giddy the whole night, of course, dancing with Glimmer, then Bow, then Glimmer _and_ Bow, then Perfuma and Mermista and Entrapta and Frosta and Netossa, then an entire dance with Glimmer and Bow and Seahawk to commemorate their Dragon’s Daughter III crew, and so on. Breaks are few and far between, with her finally finding a second to sit and snatch one of the sweets laid out on the table or try a sip of a drink, before inevitably getting dragged out of her chair to dance again.

She doesn’t mind. This had been what she’d envisioned for her wedding; laughter, celebration and friends. _Of course_ Catra—along with the others—had been the one to bring it to her.

And yet, ever since that first dance, she can’t seem to have a moment with Catra either. It isn’t hard to spot her, sitting by the table beside Entrapta, a platter of smaller-sized pastries between them as the princess explains _something_ about tech and Catra nods along in interest—content to stay by Entrapta and Emily until, she too, is dragged back onto the grass by Scorpia or Perfuma or Glimmer or Bow or anyone else.

So when Seahawk grabs control of the piano briefly, calling over Mermista to join him as the tune of a sea shanty starts forming in the music, she seizes her chance and moves over to her wife, linking her arm with hers.

“Hey,” she says, nudging her side gently, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Catra looks over at her with a laugh. “That’s because everyone wants to dance with you.”

“They want to dance with you too,” she returns, leaning against her wife as she watches Mermista and Seahawk at the piano. For once, Salineas’ princess drops the act of annoyance towards the song, singing along just as loudly—if not more—than her partner. As the shanty progresses, both Bow and Scorpia gravitate over, until they’re all singing together.

She’s smiling at the scene before she realizes _they’re all singing together_.

She spins to face Catra. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Don’t want to stay?” she teases, bumping her head with hers. “This took a while to get together, you know.”

“Well. It’s _our_ wedding. Shouldn’t we get to do whatever we want?”

“You make a good point.” Catra’s grin cracks across her face. “I’m sure they can clean up after themselves.”

She reaches down to lace her fingers with Catra’s and looks up at the others, gathered together in a group by the piano, and tries to memorize the image. It’s become rarer that they all assembled as a group—everyone stayed in touch, but things were just busy sometimes, enough that not every single person’s schedules lined up. But they were here for her and Catra. She blinks once, to ingrain the memory in her mind and looks at Catra, watching the same thing.

Sensing her gaze, her wife turns those brilliant eyes on her, beaming. “Come on.”

They go back towards the entrance to the Woods, the shadows from the towering trees covering their escape as Adora reaches to press a hand against the interwoven trunks.

“Now where might you two be going, ladies?”

They freeze, and turn slowly. Swen’s leaning on another tree on the edges of the clearing casually, arms crossed and eyes inscrutable. Right in front of them, she laughs, straightening as she steps forward.

“I’m just playing around,” she assures, and darkness—one Adora’s well-acquainted to by now—ripples across her body, piano player shifting to familiar theatre lover in between heartbeats. “Hello, darlings.”

Beside her, Catra snickers. “Couldn’t have come as yourself, Trouble? You know you were welcome.”

“Please, I live for the element of surprise, kitten!” They tilt their head inquisitively, clasping their hands together. “Although, I seem to be missing it tonight. Have I lost my touch?”

“You could’ve chosen a better role,” Adora jokes, “Wasn’t too hard to find the one person I didn’t know in this crowd.”

“Pity,” they sigh, “Though that’s a better answer. I’d be worried if I can’t get into character—I’d wonder whether I’m even qualified to be teaching the clones the art of _theatre_!” Their last word is exaggerated, as they toss their head dramatically.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” Catra says, smoothing a hand over the bark to let the trees pull apart, revealing the exit. “Now, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh, not at all!” Double Trouble gestures towards the Woods, brandishing their hand dramatically. “In fact, _although_ I have been playing all night for your wedding, I’ll even throw in one last gift. Nobody will know you left.”

Catra snorts. “Can’t believe you’d do it for free.”

“Just because I have _other jobs_ doesn’t mean I don’t have friends either,” they chide, shaking their head. “Come on, kitten. I even got you two together, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know—”

“Helped you find out what you really wanted,” they finish, smirking. “Anyway, you two are married now, so congratulations. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that parting statement, they bow with a flourish, and turn back to the party.

“Okay then. Nice of them to drop by,” Adora remarks.

Catra’s grip tightens on Adora’s hand as she steps out into the Woods proper. “Yeah, yeah, they’re a great person. Where do you want to go?”

Adora’s eyes fall down to their interlocked hands, golden bands polished and bright on their fingers. “Let’s go home.”

She doesn’t know how long it takes to walk back to Bright Moon. And it doesn’t matter.

While the flight on Swift Wind’s back had been relatively quick, and she had wandered enough paths with Catra through the Woods many times to know the way—at least in a general sense—the truth is, she’s more distracted by Catra than actually paying attention. It’s her wife who notices as a gap in the treeline starts to reveal a familiar cliffside and castle, who calls her name twice as she gestures towards Bright Moon.

Catra, _her wife_ , lovely and cunning and daring. Catra, her wife, affectionate and sweet and _happy_. Catra. Her wife.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, as they climb up the front steps to the castle. It’s late now—truly late—late enough that everyone in the castle is asleep. Except for the guards, Catra’s guards, standing post by the doors.

“You,” she answers honestly, smiling a bit as the guards nod respectfully—to them both, but also at their general. Catra had been a valued member of the Alliance from the very start, even when making amends, and Glimmer had offered her the position immediately after she’d finished her reparations for the war. And Catra had taken to the job so well, improving defenses and proposing new ideas and training the force—taking the time to help disoriented Horde soldiers with anything they needed.

“Oh yeah? What about me?” Catra teases as they walk into Bright Moon, the guards closing the doors behind them. Adora knows her wife trusts every single person working under her, and knows none of them will spread rumours about seeing them. Rather, _not_ seeing them.

There are a lot of ways Adora can answer the question. “You look beautiful,” she says, opting for the simplest. “I don’t think I told you that today yet.”

Catra blushes, and Adora’s glad she can still surprise her wife. “You look beautiful too.”

“It’s because I got married to my wife today.” A giddy laugh bursts from her chest. “Cool, right?”

Said woman snorts, leaning into her. “I can’t believe I married a dork.”

“ _Your_ dork.” Still delighted, Adora raises their hands together, turning them so their rings catch the light. “Forever.”

“I love you too.”

Pleased, she squeezes Catra’s hand. _And I love you_. “Hey, can we go to the roof?” She’s struck by the sudden urge to climb up there, where the sky opened up and the horizon seemed endless. No matter how long they’d been living under the stars, there was something so breathtaking to them—they made her feel smaller, but in a good way. A way that made her content to feel like just another part of everything—just Adora—because there were all those other worlds out there, and Etheria was only another corner of the wide, boundless universe.

“We can do whatever you want.”

Abruptly, she kicks off her sandals, tired of wearing them all night. Besides, it’s easier to run. “Race you to the roof!”

Catra’s frozen for a split-second in disbelief before she takes off after her, shouting her name indignantly. Adora can hear footsteps echoing right behind her as she races for the stairway that leads upwards, their shared laughter bouncing off the close walls. Adora nearly trips over her feet when she leaps over the last few steps, but it’s worth it as she edges past Catra as first—barely.

“You are _such_ a cheater!” her wife declares, almost doubling over in breathless laughter as she turns to her. Instead of responding, Adora wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into a kiss. Catra’s lips are cool from the breeze fanning above Bright Moon and they curl into a smile against Adora’s before she draws back, still chuckling.

“Your eyes are glowing,” she says, thumb sweeping against her cheek. Adora laughs softly, remembering the time following the war, when she’d usually turn into She-Ra for every time she’d been able to kiss Catra.

“I’m just happy,” she replies, pressing her forehead to Catra’s. “Really happy.”

“Me too,” she murmurs in agreement, and they sit in the silence for a while, comfortable to just rest against the golden structure on the roof.

“If we saw us here, as we are now after, well, everything, back when we were kids, do you think it would’ve still happened? We would’ve gone through all that?”

The thought is random, but Adora waits to hear Catra’s answer, tracing absent shapes on the back of her wife’s hand as she thinks.

“I don’t know,” she admits eventually, letting out a breath between her teeth. “I want to—I want to believe that I’d be able to trust in the future, _our_ future, but if I’m being honest, I think…I think I’d make you promise to never leave.”

“I would have,” she says, quick, “Back then, and now. I never wanted to leave you. And I won’t, ever again.”

Her smile in response is simple, effortless. “I know. And…seeing us here, tonight, I think—well I wouldn’t be happy, not if I knew _everything_ behind how we got here—but I also feel like I would’ve wanted to find out, you know, all of it on my own? Like knowing the ending of the story ruins the middle, if that makes sense? I would’ve loved to know that we’d get to this point, to _marriage_ , but, um, I also would’ve liked to see it happen for myself. _Even if_ those two seconds you waited to tell me you loved me back were enough to give me a heart attack.”

“Good thing we’re not at the end of our story yet then, right?” Adora says teasingly. “I mean, we still got a _lot_ more we can do after marriage. It’s not the finish line.”

“I _know_ , just—” Rolling her eyes, Catra huffs out a small laugh. “Knowing we’d be in a relationship would’ve blown my mind when we were kids.”

“Me too. If I saw us here, now…” She mulls over her words. “I think I would make you promise to just _try_. Just try and make the effort, because then everything else became possible.”

“I’d promise that to you,” she says, “And no matter what happens from here, what happens _ever_ , I’ll promise you again. You’ve never given up on anything, so I won’t give up either.”

Adora lets her eyes drift shut as she shifts even closer to Catra, tucking her face in the crook of her wife’s neck to hide her unbelievably wide grin. “Promise me a life with you.”

“Didn’t I do that already? Like, today?” Catra’s finger glides over the glossy surface of Adora’s ring.

“Promise me anyway,” she insists, lifting her head as she opens her eyes to look at her.

“I promise,” Catra says, emphatic, “I love you. Promise me that too. That I’ll have a life with you.”

“I promise. I love you,” she repeats, just as assuredly. Despite their vows earlier, this feels just as important, as serious. Promises always were, with them. Catra leans forward to bump their heads together again, and all Adora can do is stare into her wife’s eyes, at the stars that gleam within the gold and the blue, and the stars she’d loved to study even before she knew what stars were.

Maybe Catra was right. That knowing the end of the story altered the middle, affected the journey. But the way Adora saw it, the beginnings were the most important part; they were what let stories even _happen_ , they were the catalysts for change. They could be beautiful, when viewed that way, like they were always the start of _something_. And if something was always happening, then couldn’t any moment be a beginning?

As Adora closes that last remaining fraction of space between to kiss her wife, she decides that this is another of those moments. So what if the moons don’t shine any brighter, or the breeze doesn’t smell any sweeter? The callused pads of Catra’s fingers brush the inside of her wrist, her heartbeat rushes in her ears, her ring—although it might just be her imagination—warms against her skin. The moment might not be anything special from the outside, but it’s special to her.

And she knows, for her and Catra, this is only another beginning of many.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thanks for reading! This was sort of my love letter to She-Ra (though I do plan on writing more fics from here on out) and I'm extremely grateful for everything this show and fandom has given me. This was my first fic (and it was a pretty long one aka why it took me forever to write) but it was fun! Yes, I made an account just for this and yes, my title is the best I could come up with.


End file.
